Page:Plays in Prose and Verse (1922).djvu/110

94 Where little jewels gleam on it, and say, A herdsman, sitting where the pigs had trampled, Made up a song about enchanted kings, Who were so finely dressed, one fancied them All fiery, and women by the churn And children by the hearth caught up the son And murmured it, until the tailors heard it.

. If you would but eat something you'd find out. That you have had these thoughts from lack of food, For hunger makes us feverish.

. Cry aloud, That when we are driven out we come again Like a great wind that runs out of the waste To blow the tables flat; and thereupon Lie down upon the threshold till the King Restore to us the ancient right of the poets.

. You cannot shake him. I will to the King, And offer him consolation in his trouble, For that man there has set his teeth to die. And being one that hates obedience, Discipline, and orderliness of life, I cannot mourn him.

. 'Twas you that stirred it up. You stirred it up that you might spoil our dancing.